


let you keep what you stole

by thisismy_design (thisismydesignn)



Category: Magic Mike (2012), Magic Mike (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Sex, Angst, Casual Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismydesignn/pseuds/thisismy_design
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Adam hooked up with guys, and one time he fell in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let you keep what you stole

**Author's Note:**

> Had this sitting in my drafts for ages, so I figured I'd finally attempt to finish it. Warnings for run-on sentences and excessive use of italics.
> 
> Title from "What You Stole" by Matt Doyle.

**1\. College**  
  
He’s _wasted,_ high on football and freedom and friends who are probably doing him more harm than good. He’s never let himself get fucked up, lose control like this, to the point where he can hardly remember his own name—and hardly cares about the name of the boy before him, green eyes and bitten lips and looking like every fantasy Adam will never admit to.  
  
He kisses hard, thrusts harder, and it _hurts_ but all Adam can do is ask for more, so far gone that pain and pleasure are one and the same, wrapped in a numbness that fades too quickly, waking, shivering in an empty bed with an aching head and a heart that’s—not broken, but.  
  
He sees those green eyes smirking from beneath a football helmet a week later, and the next day he’s knocking on his sister’s door.  
  
 **2\. Dallas**  
  
He can feel Dallas, feel him _everywhere,_ and the press of his erection against his ass through fabric that’s too thin, too _tight,_ is the only thing that keeps Adam’s hips moving. He’s unspeakably grateful when Dallas ends practice only minutes later, and once they’re alone, he says thank you the only way that feels right: on his knees, Dallas’s hands in his hair and eyes on the mirror, his body reflected back. Adam’s right hand is between his own legs, left pushing Dallas’s shirt up, pressing to the contour of his abs, and the noise the older man makes when he comes goes straight to Adam’s cock.  
  
He’s not sure what to make of it when Dallas pushes him back and swallows him down, but he’s not complaining: threads his fingers through his hair and tugs as Dallas murmurs something about taking his virginity with a cheeky grin and a come-stained kiss.  
  
Adam lets it slide, because _this—_ well, it’s everything he never knew he wanted, and he’ll take it any way he can get it.  
  
 **3\. Richie**  
  
Richie’s just—it’s fucking _impressive,_ okay? And he’s cool about it. So when he catches Adam staring after (hell, _during)_ the show one night, he takes him out back and tells him to get it out of his system.  
  
Adam can hardly walk, let alone dance, for the next three days—but _fuck,_ it’s worth it.  
  
 **4\. Club**  
  
The constant stream of women—it’s wonderful, sure. But it never seems to be enough to keep him sated for long, and it’s always lurking in the back of Adam’s mind that it isn’t really what he wants.  
  
So one night he begs off from Mike’s next adventure—probably just another party that will end in them escaping, wasted as fuck, Adam back to Brooke’s couch and Mike to call Joanna, and Adam just—can’t. Not again. Not tonight.  
  
He finds himself in a club he’s never been to, never dared to enter, colored lights flashing overhead and beautiful boys dancing too close, the movement of their hips nearly putting Mike’s to shame. The air is electric with sweat and smoke and _sex,_ and maybe it’s far from glamorous but it’s exactly what Adam needs.  
  
He doesn’t let himself think about the fact that the man he chooses looks maybe a bit _too_ much like Mike; goes to his knees in the back of the club and tries to forget everything but the taste of his skin and the bruises on his hips.  
  
(One man’s hands on him feel better than the dozens of women who touch him every night, and the club’s flashing lights leave spots behind his eyelids he can’t quite blink away.)  
  
 **5\. Ken**  
  
“I fucking love you.”  
  
“No, man, I love you.”  
  
It’s one of the most bizarre situations he’s ever found himself in, but he’s too fucked out of his mind to care. Ken’s wife’s tits _are_ pretty awesome, he has to admit, but when Nora presses up against her back and drags her away, Adam’s more than happy to turn to Ken instead.  
  
He straddles Ken and runs a hand over his abs, feeling like he could lose himself in just the sensation of skin on skin. He matches Ken’s lazy grin with one of his own, rocking back against his hips with a kind of lethargic deliberation. Ken runs his tongue over his lips, eyes on Adam’s mouth; Adam leans down to kiss him, and it’s a slippery slope from there.  
  
The girls are tangled up beside them, making noises of their own, but Ken and Adam are lost in their own world. They kiss for what feels like hours, grinding against one another; if just Adam’s hands on Ken’s skin were overwhelming, they’re nothing compared to the sensation of their erections sliding together, even through layers of material. They’re too lazy and desperate to shove the offending fabric out of the way, but neither of them seems to mind. Adam feels like he _should_ be embarrassed when he comes in his pants like a teenager, but Ken follows suit only moments later, moaning and leaning up to kiss him once more.  
  
They pass out still wrapped up in one another, Adam’s legs tangled with Ken’s.  
  
Morning comes, and neither of them says a word.  
  
 **+1. Mike**  
  
Mike’s not a big fan of personal space, and Adam’s fairly sure he’s going insane. (An arm slung across his shoulders, a full-body hug with Mike’s hips pressed to his own, and he’s seen what those hips can do, and— _fuck_.)  
  
It’s been less than two months, and he’s so far gone already—should’ve known it was hopeless from that first night, that first wicked grin as Mike shoved him out on stage, but he hasn’t looked back since. The gig’s great, or at least as great as he can hope for, but it’s not what keeps him coming back every night. (At this point, he’s convinced he knows Mike’s solo routines better than his own.)  
  
But with Mike, it’s not like it was with the others—with Dallas, with Richie, with Ken. Singular incidents, casual encounters that could _stay_ casual. With Mike, well. Adam thinks of the sound of his laughter, the curve of his smile and the warmth of his skin, and he’s not sure “casual” has ever been an option.  
  
There are times he thinks _maybe_ , tempted by the alcohol in his veins or something stronger, but he always holds back. Can’t for the life of him figure out why, until he feels a pang of jealousy in his chest at the sight of Mike with Joanna and realizes: he’s terrified that Mike would say no.  
  
Every car ride, every moment they’re alone together is equal parts heaven and hell, balancing out into something resembling normalcy, resembling comfort, and Adam can’t remember the last time any one person felt so much like home.  
  
It still hurts like hell, but every time Mike turns that smile on him, it hurts a little less. Adam contents himself with strangers, random flings and decisions he knows he’ll regret, because Mike’s always there to pick him up—even when he can’t, doesn’t want to save himself.  
  
(Sprawled on the couch, he’ll look up at Mike, blatant adoration in his expression obvious even in the dim light. “Thanks, man,” and he’s not sure what he’s thanking him for: maybe the buzz running through his veins, maybe the second chance, or the third—maybe nothing at all. It never seems to matter, though. Mike will pull the blanket over Adam, give him a long-suffering, affectionate grin, and tell him to sleep it off.  
  
It’ll be the last thing he sees before his eyes close, and he’ll sleep easy with the echo of Mike’s soft chuckle in the back of his mind.)


End file.
